


The Gift Freely Given

by furchte_die_schildkrote



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/F, Light Bondage, Praise Kink, Tentacles, Virginity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-16
Updated: 2016-04-16
Packaged: 2018-06-02 15:31:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6571672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/furchte_die_schildkrote/pseuds/furchte_die_schildkrote
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a village by the sea, a sacrifice was chosen. She was trained in arts and sciences, in manners and social graces, in religious devotion. Now, she must offer her life to the goddess she serves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Gift Freely Given

**Author's Note:**

  * For [reeby10](https://archiveofourown.org/users/reeby10/gifts).



> Happy smutting, reeby10!

 

The fire roared before Carem, as she stood barely a foot's length away from its base. Her heart pounded in her chest—she could feel it in her fingertips. She was tall for thirteen, but the flames were as tall as her shoulders and some bursts well above her head. The sight of other initiates walking through the flames unscathed did not stop her knees from trembling. She clenched and shook her hands together and frantically muttered a prayer to the goddess about to test her.

 

“Dear Goddess, beloved Eri, as I prepare to enter into your service, I pray that you protect—“ She stopped herself. That was not right. Protection was not what she needed today. “Please, _please_ give me the strength to serve you as you see fit.”

 

The voice of the choir mixed with the roar of the flames.

 

Carem stepped forward. The pain of the flames cut through her. She screamed as her knees gave out and she fell to the ground. She had been chosen.

* * *

 

Years later, Carem stood at the edge of the ocean, imagining that along the horizon, she could still see the ship that had left her on the island. She had been numb to the cold ever since she had entered into the cloister, but she could not help but shiver as the harsh ocean winds whipped past her, her loose dress flapping around her.

 

Even in the rush of the waves on the nearby cliff, even through the singing wind, even through the cacophony of the gulls and seabirds, Carem was struck by how quiet the beach was. She was alone.

 

She smiled at the novelty. True solitude was an impossibility in the cloister's communal living. Even solitary prayer was not fully possible, knowing that another sister prayed several feet away in the neighboring cell. As the goddess's chosen gift, privacy was even more impossible. Supervision was constant, as were studies, lessons, and tutoring sessions. The gift must be well-trained and well-raised. An educated girl, skilled in crafting, well-mannered, untouched.

 

 _I had to be loved,_ she thought. It was something she considered often. The love of her sisters and her mothers, joined in the service of the changing goddess, was the joy of her life. It was a joy, yet also a duty. _My death must hurt them._

 

Carem let her mind wander back to her cloistered family.

 

She remembered how the other novices feared her at first. After the initiation ceremony, they avoided her as if she were already a corpse. And the inducted priestesses were even worse, doting on her as if she were a wounded kitten.

 

She remembered slowly growing close to her sister novices. Fear gave way to a friendship that was forged in the strict cloister regimen and tempered by communal rule-breaking and secret-sharing. A stolen pastry. An unsupervised hike to the nearby sea cliffs. Lustful thoughts for a tutor's son. Skillful and ingenious methods of cheating on language exams. A broken vow with a mayor's daughter in the greenhouse. Carem smiled.

 

She remembered her final ceremony. Preparation of the Gift took a full day. The priestesses washed her and offered her tender words of encouragement. The novices on the mainland emptily confessed their envy as they painted prayers onto her body. The Mother Superior dressed her in the finest dress she had ever worn—countless draping layers in several colors, elaborate embroidery and beadwork, an ornate headdress over a colorfully woven headwrap tied up behind her head.

 

And now, here she stood. Painted, wrapped, and alone. She removed her headdress and scarf, placing them in the coarse sand with a blessing. Her long, dark curls whipped around her face. The salty breeze was exhilarating.

 

Carem turned away from the sea, and began to walk up the loosely defined path, instinctively knowing where the temple awaited her. She climbed up the steep trail, higher and higher, trying not to wonder how exactly she would die.

 

She reached the temple as the sun was nearly setting. A stone alter was A steaming stone bath sat at the far corner of the temple, overlooking the jagged sea cliffs. Carem undid the buttons holding her dress in place and let the layers slip to the floor. She stepped towards the bath, where the waters would wash the painted prayers from her body.

 

Then, on a whim, she turned and stepped towards the edge of the temple floor. The wind wrapped around her as she stood there, naked, before the entire empty island. The exposure reminded her of the times she and the novices would sneak off to a well-concealed cove, slip out of their robes and wrappings, and swim naked in the frigid waters.

 

She stepped into the bath, and comforted by the memory of her sisters, she drifted asleep.

* * *

 

When she awoke, she was lying on the stone altar, hands tied above her head, and a beautiful young woman with wily red hair was sitting next to her, wearing a single transparent layer of the dress Carem left on the stone floor.

 

“Lady Eri?” she said, in a daze.

 

The woman smiled calmly. “Who else?”

 

Instinct told her to fall to her knees, throw herself at the goddess's feet, offer some form of respect, but all she could do was squirm against the ropes.

 

“What do you ask of me?” Carem asked, looking at her with open-mouthed awe.

 

Eri did not answer. Instead, she trailed her fingers along Carem's legs. She traced the washed off remnants of a prayer high along the inside of Carem's thigh, and suddenly Carem could feel the letters of the prayer burning on her skin—the letters of every prayer burning all over her body. She could see the ornate writing reappearing on her skin, glowing with a bright, white light. The pain quickly morphed into something entirely different—not quite pleasure, so much as an overwhelming storm of sensation, racking her entire body as the goddess calmly ran her fingers along her side. Carem writhed against her restraints, overwhelmed by the energy of the prayers pulsing through her body and the goddess's teasing touches.

 

Eri abuptly drew her hand away. As the prayers and their current faded, Carem was left panting, on edge. She wanted to ask what just happened, what was still happening, why she had to stop. She turned to mouthed prayers in an attempt to maintain composure in front of the goddess.

 

Eri lightly hummed a bright tune to herself as she moved her hand to skim over the burn scars that cover Carem's calves and feet, drawing a hitched breath from her. The discolorations seemed to be painted on in an artistic elaboration on flames. Since the burns had healed, Carem found that wherever the scars had formed, her sense of touch was dulled. Now, as those scars were being fondled and caressed by an ageless being of unknowable power, her skin seemed to come alive.

 

As Eri ran her fingertips along the scars, she spoke in a hollow, soft, and distant voice. “I know you cried that night. Before stepping into the fire, you told yourself you would be brave. Stoic. Unyielding. You told yourself you had nothing to fear, and when you learned you were wrong, you cried. And yet, here you are. Strong. Beautiful. Perfect.”

 

Eri climbed onto the altar and slinked over Carem. A hand on either side of Carem's head, the goddess held herself above her, grinning. Inevitable fear pulsed through her, though that fear began to mix with a tender awe—the sort of religious adoration she imagined she had held throughout her service, but now paled in comparison what she felt now. Eri's hair cascaded down around them. Her face was only a few inches above Carem's, and Carem was thoroughly enraptured. Eri's eyes flickered like they were reflecting a dancing flame as she tenderly scanned Carem's face. She could feel Eri's hastening breathes—a curiously mundane trait for a goddess. She could barely believe the intimacy of the moment. Heat radiated from Eri's body. Carem was very aware of how Eri's hip dipped down slightly. Her body was maddeningly close. Eri twisted her hand into Carem's hair as if to pull at it, but then let go and moved her hand to rest against the side of her cheek.

 

“I need you to close your eyes now, my child,” Eri said, as if whispering a lullaby to a child. Carem closed her eyes, fighting the urge to turn head away or squirm in fear. Her heart raced even faster, and she could not keep her breathe from shaking. She heard the unmistakable sound of the dagger being unsheathed. Her pulse pounded in her ears.

 

She heard the sound of the dagger swiftly cutting through rope, and felt her restraints loosen. She felt the goddess get off of her and climb down from the altar.

 

“Sit up, my child. Open your eyes.”

 

Carem obeyed, even as she was light-headed from panic. Eri stood before her.

 

“You have done well,” she said in a warm and gentle voice. “Your strength and dedication are truly impressive. Even before the fire chose you, I could see your potential, but here, today—you deserve to be very proud, Carem.”

 

Carem jumped down from the alter at laid herself prostrate at the goddess's feet.

 

“I don't understand,” she said, her voice shaking.

 

“You have earned an explanation. You are my gift. You are not destined to die, but rather to continue your life in my service. Much as you would have in the cloister, though you have the gift of doing so more in a more direct fashion. You will walk the earth, sometimes with me and other times on your own, maintaining my domain. As you serve me, you will also have my protection against my siblings, or anything else that would dare harm you. You will bear my children, and they will carry my spark across the earth.”

 

“I am not going to die?” Carem asked, bewildered.

 

“You will still die, my child. But not today, and not by my hand. I cannot keep you forever.”

 

Reaching for a decent response, Carem recited one of the rote prayers she learned in the cloister. “Goddess Eri, you are the light and the spark behind all creation. I have pledged myself to your service. I lie here awaiting your command.” She hesitated, and then continued to add a request, something strictly reserved for fully initiated sisters and children too naive to know better. “Please. Tell me what I must do.”

 

“There is a ritual.” Eri smiled. “I think you should like it. It will bind you to me, and in turn, I will bind you to the unseen world.  This ritual is why you were required to be untouched until now. If we are lucky, it may even give you your first child. Children conceived during the first night are especially powerful.”

 

Carem felt a jolt of excitement at the words “until now”, but she remained frozen in disbelief. The implication was clear as the goddess ran her gaze up and down Carem's naked body, but something still held her back. When she stepped onto the island, she was certain that she would be dead by sundown, and yet here she stood under the moonless night sky, being propositioned by her patron goddess.

 

Eri stepped closer, and placed the edge of her hand along Carem's jaw. The other hand settled on her waist.

 

“Beautiful,” Eri said in a whisper. She slid her hand behind Carem's back and pulled her into a kiss. Carem wanted to respond, to kiss back forcefully, to do whatever it was she was supposed to do with her tongue, but all she could bring herself to do was lean forward and savor the moment. She had always figured this was something she could never have, and yet here she stood—alive, feeling the touch of Eri's smiling lips against her own. She stepped back, breathing heavily.

 

The electric desire that she had felt on the altar pulsed through her again, but now she allowed that desire to take focus.

 

Carem felt a spark of confidence. She leaned forward and up again to kiss Eri. She moved to mirror Eri's hold on her, but the thought of touching the goddess's face—of cradling it like a lover—was too much for her. She let her hands settle on the small of Eri's back. Her lips parted, and she felt the goddess's tongue slip in. The hand on her hip gripped into her flesh, and Eri pushed her own body against Carem's, pinning her against the finely carved alter.

 

And then Eri spun their positions, and pulled them both to the floor. Now Eri sat with her back against the altar wall, and Carem precariously kneeled over her lap, hands pressed to the wall on either side of her. She should feel powerful in this position, she thought, but as she kneeled there, pinning a goddess to the wall, her confidence evaporated. She felt more vulnerable than she had felt tied up on the altar.

 

Eri leaned forward and kissed the crook of her neck. She reached out one hand and let it trail along Carem's breast. The other hand rested firmly on the top of Carem's thigh, her thumb running in small, maddening circles. Eri's touches drove steadily drove her mind away from self-consciousness. Her thoughts, if you could call them that at this point, grew focused on Eri and wanting more of this.

 

Eri dipped her head down to her breast, kissing her and swirling her tongue over the nipple. She smiled as she drew a moan out of Carem. Eri kissed each breast once more and then moved her attention upwards. She roughly kissed at Carem's collarbone, peppering the kisses with gentle nibbles to her neck and shoulders.

 

Carem shuddered. The sensation overpowered her. She collapsed into a hunched position, sitting straddled over one of Eri's thighs, leaning against Eri for support.

 

And then she moved her hand from Carem's thigh inward. She ran her fingers in between Carem's legs and began to stroke. Carem gasped and closed her eyes.

 

As she closed her eyes, she found she could see in a way she never had before. A surreal image of the world around her climbed into her mind as vividly as any sight she had ever seen with her own two eyes—except that the sight came from all directions, not limited by where her eyes were pointed—except that the world around her took on so many more colors and structures than she had ever seen. And Eri—Eri was the most magnificent sight of all. She seemed to be caught somewhere between smoke and flesh. Colors danced along her skin. More colors than Carem ever imagined existed. She held a largely human form, but Carem got the sense that that was wholly optional. Smoky tendrils extended from her body, dancing and twisting in the air. Running along Carem's body, caressing her. She was stunning. Radiant. Horrifying and awe-inspiring. She was also several feet taller than she appeared to Carem's eyes, though that hardly seemed worth noticing alongside her other qualities.

 

Carem's eyes sprung open. She was only slightly surprised to see the image she had when she closed her eyes overlaid over her own vision.

 

“You,” she stammered. “You are beautiful.”

 

Eri grinned, and the ghost world in Carem's mind seemed to glow.

 

“You see me?” 

 

Carem nodded in breathless awe.

 

"You are taking to this well," Eri replied, with a reassuring squeeze to Carem's thigh.

 

Suddenly Carem felt something push inside of her. One of the shockingly solid smoky tendrils had worked itself between Carem's legs and inside her. She should be surprised, frightened, confused, but the haze of arousal that clouded her mind let through no emotion beyond ecstasy and a single-minded need for more.

 

The tendril twirled inside her. Her back arched at the movement, and her legs slid open with a light gasp.

 

“You are doing so well, love. Your first time being touched, and yet you take it so well.” A tendril wrapped itself around one of Carem's thighs, gently writhing and caressing.

 

“Never even properly touched yourself, have you? Not all my gifts managed that, you know,” she said with a reassuring smile. Another tendril wrapped around her other leg, closer to the knee than the first.

 

“Now, open wider for me, love.”

 

Carem spread her legs pliantly, eagerly. She tentatively shifted her hips and rocked herself against the stalk of the tendril.

 

“Beautiful. You want more, don't you?”

 

Carem nodded fiercely. A second tendril worked its way inside her, thicker than the first. The two began to thrust and writhe, not quite in sequence, pushing deeper and deeper, stretching her open.

 

The tendrils began to wrap around her in ever greater numbers. They seemed to merge together. Every limb was enveloped. She clung to Eri's neck as they were tied together in a brightly colored tangled of smoke.

 

Eri's mouth hung open in what seemed to be the same overwhelming pleasure pulsing through to Carem's core. Eri let out a cry, biting against Carem's neck as she convulsed and gripped her fingers against Carem's back. The tendrils writhed more wildly than before, and Carem felt a wave of energy wash over her, cool and hot at the same time.

 

As the tendrils continued to thrust inside her, Eri moved a hand down, between Carem's legs. She began to circle her fingers in earnest around the sensitive point she had found before. It only took a few moments before Carem felt a pressure build inside her, frantically growing more and more urgent, until something inside her seemed to crack open and the pleasure that been running through her the whole time turned into some sort of electric energy. She twisted and writhed against the tendrils binding her body.

 

Then it was over. The bonds evaporated. Dawn was breaking. A calm and satisfied exhaustion swept over her.

 

Eri smiled at her. “I am so proud of you.”

 

 


End file.
